The Judas Kiss

The Judas Kiss, much like its subject Oscar Wilde, is a complex piece of work. And like Wilde too, the play manages to be simultaneously intricate, hilarious, heartbreaking, enigmatic, flamboyant and charming.

The first Act, set in a hotel room in London in 1895, explores the moment in time when Wilde is about to be arrested for 'acts of gross indecency' following a legal stoush with the outraged parents of his paramour (Lord Alfred Douglas). Oscar is being warned by his close friend and ex-lover, journalist Robert Ross, that current flame Douglas (or 'Bosie') may not be worthy of the unconditional love that Wilde lavishes upon him. Ross implores Oscar to go into exile to avoid arrest, but loses the battle as Oscar opts to stay and dine rather than run and hide. Act II takes place in Naples where Wilde is living in increasing poverty following the conclusion of his two year prison sentence. Bosie is still on the scene, still with Oscar, but happily entertaining a lover of his own for Oscar's viewing and apparent entertainment. As the plot unfurls, Ross brings news from Oscar's wife who offers a bargain; financial security (which Oscar desperately needs) in exchange for his dissociation from Bosie (whom he desperately loves). Oscar refuses, only to then learn that Bosie's mother has offered a similar deal; one that Bosie accepts with little qualm, leaving loyal, broken Oscar discarded like last year's coat.

There are many themes going on here; love, politics, jealousy, money, control and, as the title suggests, betrayal. And what struck me, while watching a play which ultimately hinges on betrayal, is how evident the opposing force of commitment was throughout this production.

Heidelberg Theatre Company's production, directed by Bruce Akers, is a house built on very solid foundations. David Hare's fine script is certainly a good start, but in lesser hands any production of The Judas Kiss could easily have teetered into very scary territory. The show is peppered with nudity, homosexual displays, extremely complex supporting characters, and a protagonist so famous and eccentric he could slide into caricature in a blink. Bruce Akers and Heidelberg have to be commended firstly for taking on the challenge at all, and most importantly for pulling it off.

Akers' direction is subtle, controlled and laconic, that is to say I hardly noticed it. With the exception of some well-placed music in both acts (which may have been prescribed, I don't know, but even if so, well-executed), there is no moment of 'ah, that's the director being clever'. The blocking is functional, natural (crucial when dealing with larger than life characters, I believe) and seamless. And as theatre is not just a game of chess, I can only assume that Akers deserves at least some of the credit for the aesthetic and technical design of the piece, as well as the highly competent performances.

As Lord Alfred Douglas, Tim Constantine has a tough job and makes it appear effortless. Bosie is cast as the anti-hero (indeed the Judas) of the piece, and Constantine manages to portray the arrogance and self-centredness necessary for us to view him in this light without being overt. The insecurity that belies Bosie's arrogance surfaces in bursts of jealousy regarding Oscar's success and Douglas' lack of it. And through all this subtext, Constantine delivers an immensely likeable performance of an unlikeable character, which is of great credit to his craft and smart interpretation of the work.

Similarly, Angelo De Cata's Robert Ross is tightly wired gem. A stoic and measured character with the cork firmly in the bottle, it is truly exhilarating to see him lose his cool with Oscar late in Act I, and the sea of emotion evidently brewing from the beginning. Another fine example of a character well-designed in script but moulded, personalised and layered by an intelligent actor under solid direction.

And of course, there is Oscar Wilde, played by Chris Baldock. Upon his initial entrance to the stage, my first thought was, 'Hello, it's Matt Preston!' But seeing as Matt Preston has apparently modelled his wardrobe (and perhaps his entire persona) on Oscar Wilde, I soon shifted my silly mind away from pressure tests and dish heroes and got swept up again in 1895 and the hero of this piece, the gorgeous Oscar Wilde.

Chris Baldock's characterisation is rich and multi- faceted. He glides easily between the sometimes caustic Wilde wit and rebelliousness, and the tender vulnerability which ultimately leads to Oscar's heartbreaking betrayal by Lord Douglas. Baldock's delivery and gestures are appropriately theatrical, and at no time did he obviously play for laughs or over-camp his performance. The only observation I would make regarding possible improvement would be that when moving around the stage in Act I, I didn't find Baldock's physical embodiment of Oscar Wilde as grounded and convincing as his verbal delivery, gesture and facial expression. It is a very small gripe, and one that was forgotten in Act II when Oscar stays in one position for almost the entire act. Still and seated, Baldock's Act II dialogue and soliloquising were impeccable.

On this point, I was reminded of something I read years ago in the (seemingly unrelated – go with me here) biography of Doors' drummer John Densmore. He said that when drumming, the magic was not so much in the beats but in the gaps between the beats. Baldock's performance was convincing, dynamic and often magical, every beat was a delight. But where Tim Constantine and Angelo De Cata's performances glistened with an extra pinch of magic for me was that they walked the walk even when they weren't in focus. Their characters were ingrained so deeply, every breath and cell of their physicality came to the party.

While on the subject of commitment, mention must be made of the nudity that this show calls for. The play opens with an interrupted love scene between two servants at the hotel where Oscar is staying. The two characters in question, Phoebe and Arthur, turn out to be minor players in the scheme of the piece. But in the first fifteen seconds of their fifteen (or so) minutes of fame, we get a glimpse of more than a little bit of flesh. I assume the justification for this scene is to create an impact, and it does, and is quite Wilde-esque in its no apologies shot at the puritans who might take offence. It also foreshadows the opening of the second act which features Bosie in bed with his new Italian lover. The nudity of Bosie's lover Galileo and, to a lesser extent, Bosie himself at the beginning of Act II, serves the story better and doesn't seem gratuitous. I question the necessity of the extent of the nudity in the opening scene, not for puritanical reasons but dramatic ones. What I do not question, however, is the phenomenal commitment shown by Andrew McNess (Arthur), Elise Moorhouse (Phoebe) and Giovanni Piccolo (Galileo) who all disrobe in their respective roles for the integrity of the play. And no doubt they would like, and they deserve, more than their bits to be the focus of the audience's impression of them.

Elise Moorhouse's Phoebe is cute and sassy, and as the only woman in a play focused on men's relations, she injects just the right dose of female energy. A classy performance. Andrew McNess features a little more prominently and creates a warm, affable charter for Arthur, whom I assume is from Birmingham, given the accent. I find the nuances of the countless UK regional accents easy enough to detect on listening, yet almost impossible to recreate, so hats off to Andrew McNess for a valid go at the Brummy lilt. Simon Papson as Sandy Moffat is the only minor player who gets to keep his gear on, and he serves his character with a solid, convincing performance.

I can only assume the character breakdown for Galileo calls for somebody young, attractive, of Mediterranean appearance, prepared to walk the stage naked for several minutes, and able to deliver dialogue in Italian. That's a pretty specific position description, and I can imagine the director fearing that the perfect candidate might be hard to come by. Enter, Giovanni Piccolo – young, attractive, born in Milan, graduate of Classical Languages studies in Rome, seasoned performer, at home in his body and committed to his craft. I've never met Bruce Akers, but can't help but picture him punching the air and clicking his heels together when Giovanni rocked up to audition. Piccolo's Galileo is all of the required elements, comfortable, focused and a credit to himself and the rest of the production.

Set design by Bruce Akers and realisation by Chris McLean and Owen Evans are beautiful, and dressed to perfection by Bronwyn Parker's props and décor. The opulence of the Victorian hotel room with all the trimmings in Act I contrasts nicely with the slightly shabby Napoli villa in Act II, suggesting a decline not just in Oscar's financial situation but also his state of mind. Sound design and operation by George Bisset and Ainslie Kerr respectively are solid and simple, and the musical excerpts mentioned earlier are very effective.

Deryk Hartwick and Callum Robertson's lighting design is subtle and clever, from actors opening blinds or lighting lamps to increase the light on stage to a cloudscape to show the passage of time while Oscar sleeps. All these effects were well achieved by Struan McGregor's operation.

Wardrobe by Wendy Drowley and and Lois Connor is magnificent. The cast are a range of shapes and sizes, and yet every piece of costume looks like it has been tailor-made for its wearer, adding aesthetic icing to an already pretty delectable cake. Robert Ross' Act I brown pinstripe suit is so divine I want to see it put in a glass case in the foyer after final night so patrons can admire it for the rest of time. And Oscar Wilde's costumes are perfect; wardrobe department, please don't take the Matt Preston comments as a dig at anybody except perhaps Matt Preston. Stage Managers Brett Turner and Adrian Valenta and Wendy Drowley as Production Co-ordinator deserve applause for holding all the strings of this intriguing work together.

Somewhere I read that Heidelberg Theatre Company prides itself on 'amateur theatre; professional productions', and certainly in my limited experience of their shows, this is accurate. The only aspect of The Judas Kiss that is amateur is the lack of a payroll. All other elements are of a highly professional standard, and in some cases trump many professional productions that I've seen. This is a truly remarkable piece of theatre. I trust that the audience numbers will be as successful for Heidelberg Theatre Company as the outstanding production they have created.